Sea of Deceit
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

**Sea of Deceit**

Chapter One

Bright laughter filled the air. Peter grinned as he watched his sisters running between the wickets of their makeshift cricket field. Edmund was off in the bushes trying to find the ball that Lucy had hit. The girls were having the time of their lives as they both gleefully called out the runs between wickets. Even Susan had forgotten her decorum in favor of playing.

Peter chuckled as Edmund finally emerged from the bushes with a stubborn and somewhat confused Puppy hanging determinedly onto the cricket ball. His brother cast him a black look but still managed to keep an almost civil air about him as he turned to the squirming Cairn Terrier Pup. "Now look, you see, we've been playing with this ball quite a bit before you found it. Will you let go now?"

The Puppy just growled, kicking its little back legs even as it clung determinedly to the ball. The girls had stopped to watch and Peter didn't bother to smother his grin as Edmund rolled his eyes. His brother held the ball out to the girls, Puppy still dangling in the air, but they both backed away, giggling. Susan cleared her throat as she smoothed her skirts. "Edmund, maybe we should call it a game? We still have a picnic, you know-"

"And we won!" Lucy added cheerily.

Peter just barely covered his laugh with a cough as Edmund cast him another black look. Then his little brother sighed. "Fine. Here, Cherry, you can have the ball. We don't need it anymore." He crouched to set the Puppy on the ground, the ball still clutched in her mouth. The Puppy didn't even wait for a proper dismissal before she took off as fast as her little legs could carry her, head held high as she struggled to keep from tripping over the ball.

Peter slapped his brother on the back. "Can't win them all, Ed."

"We haven't won any today, Peter." His brother's dark gaze shifted to their elder sister. "Did you say there was going to be apple pie or chocolate cake with the picnic, Su?"

She didn't look away from where she was smoothing Lucy's fair hair back into some semblance of order. "I thought we could enjoy an apple pie and the remaining half of the chocolate cake from last night's supper."

Peter exchanged a large grin with his brother before he strode over to the girls and held out his arms. "Come on then, let's get to that picnic." He grinned at his baby sister. "And I think Lucy gets to decide where we picnic today."

"Oh! I know! Let's go down to the beach. Maybe the Lady Syrena will be singing this afternoon too with her sisters." She clapped her hands eagerly, fair glowing with excitement, before remembering to loop her arm through his as Susan took his left arm with more sedateness although she was also smiling.

The Gentle Queen nodded her silent approval of the plan and Peter called over his shoulder, "Come on, Ed. You'll get pie and cake and the Mermaids can sing about your sable hair and shell-white skin again."

His brother's inarticulate cry of outrage floated to him as Peter wisely picked up the pace and hustled his giggling sisters down the winding path through Cair Paravel's gardens. Peter laughed. Yes, it had been almost too long since the last time the four of them had had a day where they weren't training, going to war, settling disputes, or otherwise mending the damage Jadis' rule had left on fair Narnia. After almost three years, peace was finally filling the land. Now if only Edmund wouldn't kill him over Mermaids and Shell-White Snow White.

OOOOOOO

White walls, red and gold banners snapping proudly in the early summer breeze, sunlight glinting off silver armor, and not a Human to be seen save for a few merchants who had newly arrived with his caravan. The Man gazed up at the glistening sight that was Cair Paravel and could not help but marvel. It was impressive to behold, the city of kings, the home of the Four Thrones. He urged his big war stallion forward. Dozens of creatures out of legend filled the courtyard, ranging from leafy Dryads and blue Naiads to grave Centaurs and merry Fauns, as well as Big Cats and Bears to a stately Giraffe walking alongside an Elephant. He swung out of the saddle and looked around, wondering who might point him after his quarry.

"Excuse me, Sir!"

At the squeaking cry, he looked down and barely hid his surprise at being addressed by a Mouse. The Mouse's whiskers twitched and it held up a tiny stack of paper, a list if he were not mistaken. "May I enquire as to what business brings you to Cair Paravel? Then I will know who among the housekeepers can help you."

"I am Lord Armin of Archenland. I come on behalf of King Lune with a message for the Four. It is of an urgent nature."

The Mouse's eyes grew wide. "Oh my. I think, yes, I think you had best speak to the General first. It is Seventhday after all and their majesties are at the beach where they are not to be disturbed. I can- Oh! Wait! Wait!"

But Lord Armin had already swung himself back into the saddle and turned his charger's head toward the gates, ignoring the Mouse's squeaking cries, as he galloped away. He had no wish to attempt to convince the General of Narnia's Army that he should be allowed to speak to the Four, especially when the man or rather the _Centaur's_ reputation as notoriously and fiercely overprotective had already flooded King Lune's court since that first diplomatic visit.

OOOOOOO

Peter looked up as he heard the guards shout a challenge and the sound of a horse squealing angrily. They had only just sat down to their picnic on the beach and he could not think what would cause anyone to intentionally break in on their hard-won ease. He had asked Oreius to make sure it didn't happen unless there was an emergency.

Rising to his feet, he instinctively rested a hand on his hip but Rhindon was not there. The guards who had previously been hidden, offering their sovereigns the illusion of privacy, had now come out in force to confront the intruder. A glance over his shoulder proved that Edmund had also risen even though the girls still sat on the blanket. Peter turned back to the commotion up the beach as one of the Tigers prowled toward them. The Tiger bowed his massive head. "Your Majesties, a Man from Archenland insists he has an urgent message from King Lune for you." His green eyes flattened in displeasure as he added in a growl, "And he refuses to wait until you have given your leave for his approach. Shall we remove him?"

Peter considered. "Did the man issue any sort of threat toward us, Ravi?"

The Tiger growled softly but shook his head. "No. However, the General's instructions were clear that your majesties were not to be disturbed and this man refuses to even speak to the General before speaking to you, High King."

"I think we better hear what this chap has to say, Pete." Edmund came to stand next to him, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. "But we shouldn't let him choose the battleground."

Peter smirked slightly to hear Edmund's adaptation of Oreius' oft-repeated instructions in the training yard but he also agreed. "Agreed. Ravi, see our guest is escorted to the small council room. He can await us there."

The Tiger bowed his head with a growl and returned to the other soldiers. Peter looked at Edmund and shrugged helplessly. His little brother only shook his head in feigned disgust. "I told you we couldn't get a real holiday. Something always happens." Then he jabbed a finger at him. "And you get to tell the girls."

"Tell us what?"

Both boys spun about to face their sisters. Lucy's sweet gaze was turned up toward them, but the dear Badger she was, she did not even hint at her disappointment that they had failed so spectacularly at her requested holiday. Still Peter felt more than a bit guilty as he wrapped his arms around both girls' shoulders and began guiding them toward the Cair. "It would seem, sisters fair, that a man has come to see us about a mysterious affair."

"Oy! No rhyming, Pevensie!"

Lucy giggled, a smile brightening her countenance once more as she hugged his arm. "I thought it was a very good rhyme, Peter."

"Why thank you, Lu."

Susan quietly spoke up, "Do you think we need to summon the whole council?"

Edmund jogged up on her other side. "I don't think he'll talk in front of the whole council. But we should definitely summon Sallowpad, Mr. Tumnus, Oreius of course, and at least one of the scribes."

"What about Nephele?" Lucy asked. "She's very good at writing everything just so and I can always read her notes."

Peter nodded. The Centauress was also one of their tutors in calligraphy (although she spent most of her time with Lucy and Edmund now) and she never talked out of school about meetings or court proceedings even when she couldn't always hide her mirth at some of the sillier cases brought before the Four, such as the gooseberry debacle. "Nephele it is."

"I'll get Trix and Denali to go find them." Edmund raced up the beach, sand flying in his wake, as he went to find the Bat and Cat pages.

Hampered by his sisters, Peter decided a more sedate pace would suit. He glanced at Susan, noticing the tiny furrow of worry tunneling between her brows, and squeezed her hand. "It's always interesting when other humans come to Narnia, isn't it?"

She offered him a slight smile. "So long as he's not looking for a bride or trying to hunt for 'Fell' trophies, I think we shall be all right."

Peter grinned. "That's the spirit, Su. Come on, girls, let's pick up the pace or we'll have to listen to Edmund crowing about how much faster he is all week long!"

Fortunately, they all arrived within moments of each other although Edmund still smirked at him before assuming a studiously blank look as they filed into the room. Peter's gaze went immediately to the stranger in the center of the room. The man was tall, an inch or so over six feet. Even his wine-colored tunic of fine velvet could not conceal the hardness that came from years of fighting nor could his stance be mistaken as anything other than a warrior at uneasy rest. His left hand rested on his hip in a way that bespoke of a missing sword (Oreius of course would have demanded he relinquish all weapons before permitting him into their presence). His age was somewhat ambiguous, perhaps early to mid-thirties, but his reddish-brown hair bore no hint of grey and his grey eyes were keen. The man offered a curt bow as they took their places in front of their chairs.

He opened his mouth to speak just as the doors burst open again. All eyes went to the dappled-grey Centauress who now filled the doorway. Her fair cheeks took on a red hue and her white-blonde hair fell forward to conceal her face as she bowed. Her dainty hooves clicked softly as she picked her way to the place nearest Lucy's chair. She quickly pulled a scroll, ink, and quill out of her scribe's bag and then looked expectantly toward them.

Peter smiled as he met Nephele's emerald green gaze. The Mare could be counted on to be late at least once a month. He nodded once and then turned back to the Man who was looking with disapproval at the scribe. Protectiveness of his people at once stirred in his breast but Peter kept the bite out of his tone as he spoke, "Your message indicated that you are here on King Lune's behalf, Lord . . ."

"Armin." The man's gaze flicked toward Mr. Tumnus and then to where the Raven Sallowpad was perched on the back of a chair. "I fear the news I bring from King Lune is most grave, High King. The Lone Islands are in the midst of rebellion against Narnian rule."

Edmund leaned forward, his dark gaze intense. "The Lone Islands have been a territory of Narnia since the time of King Gale and they even withstood the White Witch as Empress. Why would they rebel now?"

Lord Armin gave him a measuring look before he stated softly, "Because of the neglect the White Witch showed them. The present governor visits Tashbaan often and the lords who sit on the council have begun to speak boldly of casting off a Narnian yoke and declaring themselves a kingdom of their own. The Duke of Galma spread word of your disapproval of the slave trade to the other islands and Governor Gorm has grown fat on such trade." The man glanced around then took a half-step forward, making Oreius glare in warning as his hands tightened around his sword hilts, but Lord Armin ignored the unsubtle hint. "If you will forgive my boldness, Your Majesties, I must tell you that it will take a show of force to bring Gorm to heel. If the Four of you were to present yourselves at Narrowhaven and demonstrate to the governor and the lords that Narnia no longer intends to continue neglecting her overseas territories perhaps you will be able to nip this rebellion before it proceeds too far."

He paused then added, "King Lune has authorized a ship that will carry you to Narrowhaven on the morrow if that is your wish, Your Majesties. Archenland does not wish to see Narnia loses her ancestral holdings when it can be easily prevented."

Sallowpad flapped his wings and clacked his beak as he turned his head to fix a beady eye on the Archenlander. "And Lune sent a written missive as well?"

"No." Lord Armin spread his hands and shrugged apologetically. "Given the sensitive nature of Narnia's fresh treaty with Calormen, King Lune thought it wiser to send the missive by word of mouth alone. There have been recent instances wherein scribes' loyalties have been discovered to have a price." Again his gaze settled on Nephele for the briefest of moments, but the Centauress merely continued taking notes although she flicked her tail more vigorously than usual.

Peter frowned. "We are fortunate in Narnia to have such scribes who do not have a price. Your words today will not travel beyond those present, Lord Armin. We are also certain that rooms have been prepared for you along with the rest of your party."

Susan hurried to take over, a pretty smile curving her mouth. "We are most grateful for your warning, Lord Armin, and we shall take your counsel on the matter into consideration. However, it would be beyond the pale for us to detain you any longer. It is a long journey from Anvard to Cair Paravel, sir, and we know you must be weary. Pray allow Sniproot to show you to your rooms and take your ease while we deliberate what must be done."

Lord Armin bowed with perfunctory ease and then he strode out the doors. Peter caught a glimpse of a stout Muskrat waddling up to the man before the doors were shut again. Sniproot would see the Archenlandish lord was well taken care of.

He eased back in his chair and looked at the others. Sallowpad ruffled his feathers, Mr. Tumnus was fiddling nervously with his red knit scarf, looking very worried, and Oreius was scowling. Edmund glanced over at him and then turned to the chosen counselors. "How serious should we take this threat?"

It was the General who broke his silence first, looking grave as he crossed his brawny arms over his chest. "Any rebellion would be viewed as a weakness by our enemies, My King. However, I do not believe Lord Armin is presenting us with the whole truth in this matter."

Peter frowned a little, thinking back over what Armin had said and what he had not said. "But without going to Lune, there is no way to know one way or another which part or parts he held back on and if Lune truly has a problem with spies among his scribes . . ."

"It is very likely this is true, High King," Nephele spoke up without ever raising her gaze from her notes. "The Tarkaan Nedesh attempted to bribe several of the scribes when he visited Cair Paravel last spring. Unfortunately, I was not allowed the chance to kick the ankle-biter as he was invited to leave early after offending Lish."

He bit back a snicker at the thought of Lish, a very sedate and extremely proper Orangutan, pelting the Tarkaan with the oranges he had been eating for luncheon. Oreius shifted on his hooves, drawing Peter's attention again. "Be that as it may, Lord Armin's counsel should be rejected. If all four of your majesties were to travel to the Lone Islands, it would present too easy an opportunity for assassination or abduction. Especially when one considers the proximity of those islands to Calormen. We have no ship or crew of our own who would be wholly loyal to your majesties. There is too much at stake for Narnia to risk losing all four of you at once."

Mr. Tumnus' brown eyes were wide and panicked as he tapped his little cloven hooves nervously against the marble floor. "Oh dear! Oh dear! To lose all four of you with your reign barely begun and Narnia only just secured! Why it would be a disaster. We would be lost!"

Sallowpad clacked his beak. "Too true. Too true. Even Archenland cannot be fully trusted. If they are unable to secure their own nest, should we trust them with the most precious treasures of Narnia?"

"But, we can't just toss the Lone Islands over," Edmund interjected.

Lucy nodded, blue eyes lighting with what could only be excitement, as she added, "Aslan expects us to look after everything and everyone He has given us and that must include the Lone Islands too."

After debating the matter for several hours, they had only come to a partial agreement. The Four would not travel together to the Lone Islands despite Lord Armin's advice. However, they had yet to reach a consensus on what alternative they should take instead. Peter finally stood from his chair. "I think it will be best if the four of us discuss the alternatives amongst ourselves and then we shall reconvene tomorrow morn." He caught Edmund's look and added, "After breakfast."

If Peter had hoped to get through supper without being pounced on by the girls, it was in vain. Lucy pouted at him, arms crossed and blue eyes big and pleading. "But, Peter, they're my responsibility. Aslan gave me the Eastern Sea after all. Let me go or take me with you."

"Oh, Lucy, you mustn't!" Susan protested, casting a worried look at him. "You only just turned eleven and we have a difficult enough time making the other kingdoms take us seriously as it is and that is when they come to Cair Paravel. And if the slavery is as rampant as Lord Armin implied-" She bit her lip, cutting off the words that no doubt would have revealed the worrisome proposal one of the Tarkaans had presented last fall when sweet little Lucy was still ten. _Fair hair was coveted in the south._

Peter stabbed his venison a little more vigorously than usual. His knuckles had been split when he decked the Tarkaan for daring to propose such a fate for his baby sister but it had been worth it. He glanced up and met Edmund's dark gaze. His brother nodded slightly. It was agreed then.

Lucy was still trying to persuade him. ". . . I could go with you and-"

"No." Peter shook his head at her pout, determined not to cave this time. "No. You and Susan will stay here in Cair Paravel. Edmund and I will go and suss out the situation at Narrowhaven and if this Governor Gorm has truly set himself against us and against Aslan. Then _if_ it is safe, you may tour the Lone Islands with us."

Susan still looked worried. "But they will recognize you. And if there's a rebellion going on . . . Oh, Peter, surely you remember what happens to royals when they go blithely into a revolution."

He reached across the table to take her hand and squeeze it as he offered a lopsided smile. "Don't worry, Su, Ed and I will go in disguise. We won't reveal ourselves until we've the lay of the land and we shan't tell anyone to eat cake." He winked, winning a slight smile from his sister.

Edmund looked up. "Did someone say cake?"

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! So obviously I've decided to do something different, more book-verse than movie-verse this time, and definitely outside of the ALitD universe. This should be . . . interesting. I hope y'all will enjoy this new adventure though. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter Two

The young queens were holding court. Lord Armin stood off to the side and in the shadows of one of the columns framing the length of the Great Hall. He braced a forearm against the column, almost bored. It had been five days since he gave the Four his warning. Despite the range in creatures who sought the meditation or blessing of the Four, he had yet to see anything of a true challenge be presented to the young sovereigns. Even the current case they were listening to, a simple squabble over a Bruin's favorite fishing hole being overrun by a flock of nesting Geese, was no great challenge.

Indeed the younger of the two, Queen Lucy, kept having to place a hand over her mouth to hold back giggles if he assessed things rightly. Armin's gaze shifted to the elder Queen. Though she had more decorum (not to mention beauty) than her sister, the Gentle Susan still seemed to rely heavily upon counselors and the child next to her. An older Centaur was present as were the Faun and Raven who had been at his audience, all three observing and perhaps hinting to the queens as to the proper solution. He glanced at the court scribe but it was not the foolish Centauress. Instead, a large Orangutan sat upon a mound of pillows, a bowl of oranges and peaches beside him, as he scribbled notes.

Armin's gaze returned to the queens. He shook his head a little. No, it was impossible for those with such youth and inexperience to be prepared for the coming storm. He watched until the two queens rose, dismissing the court. Following at a discreet distance, he observed the sisters with their heads together and then the younger clasped her hands together, pleading, while the elder shook her dark head. Curious. He edged closer, attempting to hear the discussion, but then a large hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him about with as much ease as if he were as scrawny a lad as the Just King.

He bit back a retort as he met dark eyes that shone with suspicion. The General glared down at him. "What do you here, Lord Armin?"

"I was stretching my legs and saw the Queens. I was about to offer my services to them and to inquire as to the health of their royal brothers. The Kings have not been present at the banquets. I hope they have not taken ill. Children are easily susceptible to illness, after all."

The Centaur's expression was impassive though a hint of suspicion still lurked in his eyes. His voice gave away nothing as he stated, "The Kings are not ill. Nor are you welcome to approach any of the Four without requesting an audience. It would be for the best, Lord Armin, if you limit your wanderings about Cair Paravel. We do not wish visitors to become lost."

Armin bowed his head, knowing the Centaur General would expect nothing less than compliance. He did not wish to rouse more suspicion after all. "Of course. I am pleased to hear the Kings are not ill. Pray excuse me, General." He walked away. He needed to be careful. A few days more of observation and then he would send the awaited message.

OOOOOOO

"My Queens, should you not be at your archery?"

Lucy looked up and then beamed at the Centaur as she eagerly sprang out of her chair. "Are we late, Oreius?"

The General regarded her with grave solemnity but, after almost three years, she could see the slight hint of amusement in his expression. "Almost, My Queen. Aida and Merrywithers are waiting for you, Your Majesties. I will escort you to the archery field."

Lucy noticed the worried look Susan cast toward the Centaur. She skipped around to her sister and squeezed her hand. They were worrying about Peter and Edmund again. Then she grinned up at Oreius. "Do you think Merrywithers will let me try her bow this time?"

"I do not think that would be wise, My Queen."

"Oh, but I'm much taller than the last time I asked." She rose on her toes to prove her point (since Oreius might not have noticed her growth spurt considering he towered over all four of them), still walking. "See?" She tripped but the General caught her and gently put her back on her feet. Lucy giggled. "Thank you. I am taller though. Did you see?"

The Centaur sighed but the corner of his mouth twitched and Lucy beamed. "Yes, I have noticed you have grown some. However, you are still not big enough to handle the bows used by Centaurs."

"Merrywithers' bow is twice your size, Lucy. You would hurt yourself if you tried to use it."

"But it used to be more than twice my size, Su," Lucy pointed out with a mischievous grin. "I _am_ taller now."

Her sister finally laughed and rested a hand atop of her head. "Yes, you are but for now I think it will be far better if you only use bows that are your size."

Lucy nodded her silent agreement, knowing they were right. It wasn't until they had nearly reached the archery field that she remembered what she had wanted to ask the General. "Oreius, what were you talking to Lord Armin about?"

"I merely reminded him of the protocol required for guests, Queen Lucy."

She looked up at the Centaur. Peter and Edmund complained about the rigorous training schedule, especially whenever he made them visit the points of the compass, but she knew they knew Oreius only pushed them because he wanted them to stay alive no matter what challenge Aslan gave them. And she knew Oreius loved all four of them. Although she didn't think he would ever admit it out loud. She slipped her hand into his large one. "Oreius? Don't you like Lord Armin?"

The Centaur stopped, his dark gaze travelling from her to Susan, and then he lowered his voice. "No, My Queens, my like or dislike for the man is not the matter. But whether he has an agenda is of great concern. I am certain he does and now I must determine its nature."

Susan placed a hand on her shoulder. "We will be cautious, Oreius. And it shouldn't be very long before Peter and Edmund return."

Lucy sighed, reminded once again of the grand adventure her brothers had gone off on without her. Really she should have gone too. The sea and its islands were hers to look after. "I wish I could be with them in the Lone Islands."

"Lucy!" Susan's horrified gasp came out in a whisper and then her elder sister darted a wary glance around them. "You mustn't say anything."

Oreius looked grave as he leaned down so as to better look her in the eyes. "Your sister is correct, My Queen. We must be cautious and guard every word we speak whenever there is a chance someone might be spying upon us. Your brothers have gone hunting. Their quarry is not of import for the court or any visitor."

Lucy nodded, subdued. "I'm sorry. I will be more careful, I promise."

The Centaur gave a curt nod as he straightened. "Very good. Now, to the archery field, My Queens."

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! Hmmm, interesting. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**

**A/N2: To clarify, Sea of Deceit is not part of the ALitD universe at all, so Kat never existed and most of the worldbuilding in that series does not apply to this story. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter Three

Edmund scratched at his ill-fitting tunic then glared at his brother. "Blending in doesn't mean we have to itch."

The magnificent lummox merely shushed him as he peered through the gloom clinging to the streets along the docks. "Try to remember we're hoping to be squires and we've not been in a good place for a while."

"I haven't forgotten." He trudged through mud and Aslan only knew what else as they made their way up the street. He was the one who came up with most of their cover story to begin with. To prove it, he added under his breath, "Galahad."

"Try to keep up, Gawain." Peter looked around then pointed to a dismal-looking inn. "There."

The inn dubbed The Drunken Seahorse was ramshackle with missing shingles and crooked shutters. The place stunk to high heaven. Edmund grimaced but still followed his brother into the building. The inside somehow smelled worse than the outside. Edmund cast a skeptical look at the innkeeper whose paunch strained the limits of his soiled apron as the man ran a grimy cloth inside an equally grimy glass. The glass would probably be dirtier than it had been at the beginning of the "cleaning." The floors were equally dirty and the patrons were the roughest of sailors and dockhands, the kind who did not care for honor or hygiene. Several harried-looking girls rushed about, squeezing between the men in order to carry drinks and food to the rickety tables.

Edmund glanced at Peter and nodded to a small corner near the door. His brother led the way while Edmund kept his hand near the dagger he had slipped up his sleeve as he watched the men sober enough to notice their entrance turn speculative, predatory eyes on two lads who might be easy prey to pickpockets. Then a shout rose from one of the larger tables. A grizzled man rose, his chair clattering to the floor, as he roared, "And I says there be nothing but freaks and unnatural ways carryin' out in Narnia. What decent sort o' kingdom puts children on the throne? I says those young'uns ain't nothing but puppets. It's them freaks, horse-men an' other unnatural beast-men, an' them talkin' animals. Narnia's full o' black magics an' sorcery. Didna the land spend o'er a century all covered up in the most unnatural o' winters?"

Peter and Edmund exchanged glances. If this was the talk among the rest of the Lone Islanders, there was more truth to Lord Armin's warning than lie. Other men's shouts drowned out the speaker. Edmund leaned forward slightly, trying to hear the quieter conversation of a table closer to the door filled with men wearing finer cloaks than most of the other patrons.

"What'll ya have, loves?"

He glanced up at the breathless voice to see one of the serving girls who looked to be barely older than Peter standing next to their small table. Her mousy brown hair was escaping the frayed ribbon holding it back and she had large shadows under her soft brown eyes. Her dress was worn and her apron stained but both looked as though they were cleaned regularly. Chapped hands and a fading bruise to her left cheekbone testified to her rough life. She stared from him to Peter. "Ya waitin' for yer pappy?"

"We were looking for a place to spend the night before we seek out a place as squires to one of the noble houses," Peter answered affably with a kind smile.

The girl stared at him, eyes round with wonder. Edmund winced. His brother was speaking too finely, too nobly for this inn to be a normal stop. But then the serving lass smiled crookedly. "I'll fetch ya the house brew then. As for lodgin' I knows a finer bed than ya'll find 'ere."

"That's very kind of you, miss."

"Mattie." Then she turned and vanished amid the press again.

Edmund rolled his eyes then turned his attention back to the room. Peter really was Galahad, the perfect gentlemanly knight. The mutterings about Narnia had been traded in favor of boasts of good fishing, bemoaning of high taxes, and whispers of when 'shipments' would come in. Edmund's eyes narrowed and he strained to hear more. They were so close to Calormen. Could the 'shipments' be people?

A girl screamed. A huge brute of a man with a cruel slash of a mouth and a leer gleaming in his deep-set eyes had Mattie by the arm and the hair. She struggled, still screaming and beating ineffectively at the man. Cold fury filled Edmund's veins. He looked at the innkeeper but that man was more concerned with sending the other girls to fill his thirsty customers' drinks. The scraping of a chair was the only warning before Peter's voice rang out, imperious and commanding, "Release the girl."

The brute looked at them and then laughed. "Go home to yer ma's apron strings, boy."

"I said, let her go or I will force you to comply, sir."

Edmund got up just as the man scowled and shoved Mattie away. He bellowed and then swung a massive fist toward Peter's head. Edmund darted in and slammed the heel of his boot down on the man's instep. Then Peter punched him in the jaw, forcing the brute back a single step. The man stepped back then shook his head before glaring at them. Edmund grumbled, "Great, you poked him."

Two more burly sailors shoved their way through the crowd and took up positions on either side of the original brute. Edmund hissed in his brother's ear, "And he has friends. Brilliant choice of accommodations, brother."

"Then you can take the big one."

"They're all the big one." Edmund scowled then shoved his brother to the left while he dodged right, narrowly avoiding the first swing. Peter gave a shout and slammed his shoulder into one of the men's guts. Snatching up a stool, Edmund broke it across the same brute's back. He didn't even flinch.

A fist came out of nowhere, clipping the side of Edmund's head, and sending him staggering sideways before he let out a shout of his own and darted around one brute to latch onto the arm of the man about to pummel his great lummox of a brother. The man paused mid-strike and Edmund dropped to the floor just as brute number two slammed his fist into the other brute's jaw. Edmund rolled away and then leapt to his feet, placing his back against Peter's.

Then more shouts rang out as six men clad in the pale green of the city watch burst into the inn. The oldest of the watch stepped forward. "What's going on here?"

Peter stepped forward, still looking regal despite his bloody lip. "I'm glad you've come, sirs. Arrest these men for assault and disturbing the peace."

Edmund dug his elbow into his brother's ribs, making Peter look at him. He shook his head slightly in warning but it was already too late. The watch were glaring at them and the eldest chap looked apoplectic. "You two boys seem to be at the heart of this trouble. A night in the gaol will teach you to mind your betters. Eton, Mort, take them."

"Wait, Kai, those two lads are under my protection." One of the fine-cloaked men approached the group, his cloak now open and showing off a trio of silver waves embroidered on a dark green tabard. He dropped a pouch on the counter and then dropped a slightly smaller pouch into the watchman's hand. "These should cover the damages and the fees, don't you agree, Kai?"

"Aye, sir knight, that'll do."

Edmund grabbed Peter by the arm and hauled him around the city watch then out into the street. His brother looked around and then shrugged. "Well, maybe we should try the Bloodied Captain after all."

Before he could properly form his retort, a low voice said, "Or you can accompany me back to my lord's barracks."

They spun about and Edmund's eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized the man who had just kept them from being arrested. His right hand rested on a sword hilt and his tawny eyes studied their faces. The man bowed his head then brushed his black hair back from his face as he continued, "You told the serving girl you were seeking a place as squires. I am in need of squires. My last boy earned his spurs three months past and has joined another lord's house. I will teach you what I know and at the end of your time, you may choose to remain in the house of Lord Aiden or you may journey on with my letters of reputation attesting to your good standing. What say you?"

Edmund and Peter exchanged a quick glance. They both knew this was better than what they had originally prepared for and Peter turned back to the knight and bowed slightly. "We are grateful to accept your offer, Sir."

"Good. My name is Tamlin." He strode to where a fine bay waited with its reins held by a stable boy. "Now follow me. Your new lives begin tonight, lads. Give thanks."

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter Four

Who would have thought it was more exhausting to pretend you didn't have as much skill with the blade than it was to achieve that skill? It was almost as difficult as remembering to respond when someone called for Galahad or to call Edmund 'Gawain.' Not that he would mention the training difficulty to Oreius. As Edmund had pointed out during a run two days earlier, their General was likely to take the comment as a challenge and set about forcing them to practice fighting with less skill in addition to driving them to attain even greater skill with weapons. What a nightmare that would be!

Peter dropped down onto the stool with a weary sigh as he picked up Sir Tamlin's shield and began cleaning it. Edmund being obviously younger compared to most of the squires was kept running the more rudimentary errands for the knight, doubling as his page until that boy recovered from a nasty joust training accident. Peter's thoughts wandered back to Narnia and home to Cair Paravel. He hoped the girls were all right and that no one was making trouble for them. He hoped Susan wasn't worrying too much about Ed and him. He hoped Lucy was keeping her promise about cheering up Susan whenever she started to worry. He hoped they were safe and well.

The original hope that they would resolve the matter of the Lone Islands quickly was fast fading. They had been in Narrowhaven a week. Their hunting trip excuse had been already been in place for ten days if the girls followed the plan precisely and moved the acknowledged day of departure to the day after he and Edmund had boarded the little merchant ship bound for Galma. Some of the diplomats who came to Narnia were very fussy about only accepting their negotiations if the High King were present.

"You keep worrying and you're going to rub the sigil off that shield."

He started, looking up quickly and then relaxing. After a brief moment, he remembered to stand and bow slightly. "Sir Tamlin. Forgive my inattention."

The knight chuckled. "It is of no matter, Galahad. I merely came to see how you fared. Newt told me you came in second during this morning's footrace. And Gawain was fourth. He is rather scrawny but he is also keeping up quite well"

Peter smirked a little at the thought of Edmund's outrage at being called scrawny . . . again. "I suppose that can be attributed at least partially to his always racing after or away from me." The rest could be attributed to Oreius' strict endurance training regimen and fondness for making them visit the points of the compass.

"Ah, younger brothers are a trial."

"Whenever they wish to be, Sir."

Tamlin chuckled then ran a hand over his stubble. "What troubles you, young Galahad?"

"Thoughts of home. My brother and I had to leave behind several people dear to us and I am surprised at how lonely I find myself."

"I see." Tamlin looked around the courtyard bustling with activity and then clapped Peter on the shoulder. "You and Gawain may accompany me to the knights' common room tonight. Supper is hearty and company is more good than bad. It is also time you two meet those knights I wish you to watch for me."

"We will be there, Sir." Peter watched as Tamlin walked off, whistling a martial tune and swinging his arms, before he grinned. At least, Tamlin wasn't such a bad chap. And tonight he and Ed would finally have the opportunity to see if the rebellious and disgruntled talk at the docks had indeed trickled up the ranks to the knights of the lords of the council. What they heard would determine how they approached Governor Gorm.

OOOOOOO

Edmund didn't bother to hide his scowl as the talk among the knights turned increasingly to Narnia, or more precisely, the failings of Narnia. One knight, a man called Gar, seemed to be the chief instigator of the rebellious talk. He waved his left hand, garnering the attentions of the men. "Now listen to me. We have all heard it. And it's not just the peasants talking, it's the nobles too. Narnia intends to shut down the liveliest trade we have, the trade that sustained us for a century and more after she turned her back on us. And then the council speaking through the so-called Four will levy taxes to bleed our treasuries until we might as well sell ourselves into Tashbaan."

One of the knights sitting in the shadow-filled corner called out, "Narnia has always ignored the islands. We aren't important to them."

"Aye!" shouted another man. "Those beasts care nothing for the Children of Adam and Eve. A witch ruled them for a hundred years. Who's to say they only wish to exert control over us in order to kidnap the children of the Lone Islands and turn them into unnatural creatures?"

How blind they were. How foolish and blind. Edmund clenched his fist as he struggled against the injustice of blind accusations. Peter started to move but he grabbed him by the arm and squeezed. His brother started to yank free when a new voice cut into the jeers. "And who's to say you all will still be a part of Lord Aiden's household if you keep this talk up?"

The man sitting in the shadows scoffed, "Is that what you plan to advise him to do, Tamlin?"

Tamlin's eyes were hard and glittering as he looked around the room. "I think the best advice is for each of you to recall that the Lone Islands are yet under Narnia's flag, no matter how tenuous the bond was grown since our grandfathers and great-grandfathers' time. Lord Aiden has not yet made his stand on the matter. As his knights, we cannot take a personal stance before our lord is ready to have his allegiances known."

Gar sneered. "You know which way the wind blows, Tamlin. Only a fool urges taking in the sail now."

"And the winds can die or change direction as swiftly as they spring up, Gar." Tamlin suddenly turned to where he and Peter sat next to the fire pit. "Galahad, Gawain, this is no longer a place for squires."

They rose hastily to follow their knight patron as the men began talking about women, horses, and hunting dogs. Nothing very interesting or pertinent to their mission. Tamlin halted just in front of the barracks and turned to face them. "You lads should keep in mind that choosing sides in a debate over being a territory or freedom is foolish. I'll not hear of you two getting into fights over Lone Islander freedom. You are not from here so you will not understand. Therefore, take my advice and remember that you two are squires. Your tasks are to do as you're told. Do not get involved in the debate. Plead your foreignness as reason if need be but do not get involved. I'll not have any squire of mine instigating a brawl in the barracks."

OOOOOOO

Peter held the dull training blade gingerly, wishing the balance wasn't so off, it was like swinging a kettle compared to Rhindon. He spied Edmund making one of the older squires miserable by simply refusing to stay still. He smirked a little and then blocked the strike from his pale opponent. Robin was a year older but he was relatively weak to Peter's usual opponents. Peter raised his sword to follow through with an incapacitating strike but broke off the attack and sprang away as a group of horsemen clattered into the courtyard.

He looked up as a man he had never seen before, dressed in a dark green tunic of the finest velvet with the triple waves embroidered on his collar as well as his cloak, halted his grey stallion in front of the squires. The boys hastily formed a line and Peter managed to stand next to his brother. The lord of the house (for who else could it be?) was tall and thin as a whip but he sat his horse well and something about him radiated with the essence of one accustomed to battle as well as the finer things in life. His dark eyes narrowed a bit when their gaze fell on him and Edmund and his thin lips pressed together. "You are new. To which knight have you been made squire?"

"Sir Tamlin," they answered in unison.

"Tamlin," he repeated softly and then loudly as he called, "Tamlin! You and your squires will present yourselves in my study in ten minutes."

They rushed to clean up after their abbreviated training session and were soon standing in the study of Lord Aiden. The lord ran both hands over his short-cropped dark hair and then he motioned to Tamlin. "Why were these boys with neither family nor patronage admitted into my house?"

"They show potential, my lord. And they caused a ruckus in the Drunken Seahorse attempting to defend one of the serving girls."

"Compassion?" Lord Aiden looked from Tamlin to them. Peter met his gaze willingly until the lord turned his attention to Edmund. "That can be a difficult trait to find and to keep."

"I took the lads in as my squires because I am certain they will bring no shame on your house."

Lord Aiden nodded once then pointed at Peter. "What is your name?"

"Galahad, my lord." Thank Aslan, he did not stumble or hesitate over the assumed name. "And this is my brother, Gawain."

"Hmm." The lord looked down at his papers, picking up one and reading it while they stood there waiting for a dismissal. The silence stretched as he looked over a missive before the dark eyes rose to study them. "Tamlin, you and Galahd may return to training. Gawain, you will remain."

Peter cast a glance at his brother but Edmund gave no sign of unease as he stood before Lord Aiden. His heart was pounding as the door to the study shut on his heels and he was left with no option save to follow Tamlin. His mind raced, trying to recall if they had ever met or invited Lord Aiden to Narnia or even run into him when they went to visit Galma a few months past. Did Lord Aiden recognize them? Or at least Edmund?

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! **


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter Five

Edmund heard the door shut behind him, cutting him off from his brother, but he did not flinch or look around nervously. One thing he had learned in that horrible school was that looking for an escape only made you seem weak. Besides, Oreius had taught him and Peter how to assess a room's possible escape routes from the moment they walked in and they rarely missed identifying one now. Edmund met the assessing gaze of Lord Aiden. His mind raced back to the few times a Lone Islander noble had visited Galma (only a handful of merchants and minor nobles had ventured to Cair Paravel thus far). But he could not place Lord Aiden among those few he had met.

"Your name is Gawain?"

"Yes."

"And you are brother to Galahad?"

"It is as he said." Edmund noticed the slight frown and added a belated, "My lord."

Lord Aiden raised both eyebrows. "I see. Though, I suspect half-brother would be more accurate. There is no shame in such things. Even if your mother was not your father's wife."

Edmund clenched his fists and could not keep the coldness out of his tone as he countered, "And you have never seen siblings who looked differently from each other even though they shared the same parents? I look like our mother. My brother looks like our father."

The lord gave him a skeptical look. "I see." His eyes narrowed as he continued shrewdly, "I also see that you are no squire, Gawain."

OOOOOOO

_"__Take care, my Kings. If your identities are revealed and this Lord Armin speaks truly of rebellion in the Lone Islands, your very lives may be forfeit." Their General looked down at them, his expression even more grave than usual, and placed a broad hand on their shoulders as they stood before him. "If your identities are revealed or your true purpose is discovered, escape. Do not hesitate to flee. Find a ship bound for Galma or Archenland and then make your way back to Narnia's shores. You are each your brother's shield. Stay together as much as you can. Do not leave your backs unguarded. I will arrange for Sea Birds to come help you if your journey takes more than three weeks. But, whatever happens, you must stay alert."_

Peter slammed his sword against his opponent's, the Centaur's words still roaring in his ears. He should have found a way to stay with Edmund. He could have thought of something. Like the fact that Ed was just shy of thirteen. Would that have worked? What if Lord Aiden knew Edmund? What if their identities were known? How was he to find his brother and get him to the closest Galma or Archenland-bound ship if he didn't know what was happening?

The shield swinging toward him was sloppy. Oreius would have made the older boy run through strengthening exercises, including lugging his shield around for an entire day without being permitted to rest it against anything or touch the ground. Peter slammed the hilt of his sword against the far edge of the shield, forcing his opponent's arm and shield to curve in toward his body.

What if they had arrested Edmund? He let out a hoarse yell and then grabbed the top of the opposing shield and yanked down and to his right, making his opponent stumble. Peter charged into the opening, shoving his opponent's sword up and exposing his chest at the same time he hooked his heel behind his ankle and tripped the older, beefier boy so he fell flat on his back. _"Stay alert!"_ Peter shook his head, suddenly aware of two men shouting at him. He was standing over Brock, his practice sword hovering over his heart and exposed throat.

"Galahad, hold!"

Chest heaving and sweat stinging his eyes, Peter stepped back almost reluctantly. He lowered his practice blade and offered a hand to Brock but the older lad only scrambled away, abandoning sword and shield where they lay, and then staggered to his feet, his eyes wide with terror. "He tried to kill me!" He pointed an accusing finger at Peter. "He tried to kill me, Sirs!"

Peter swiped at the sweat dripping down his face with his sleeve but said nothing. No doubt it had probably looked to all that he had been trying to do something permanent to his hapless opponent. How could they know he was really trying to do something permanent to his worry over his brother?

Tamlin stopped by his side, casting him a long look before turning to the other squire. "What will you do when your enemies try to kill you, boy? There will be none about for you complain to then. Pick up your sword and shield and join the others for drills."

"I'm more interested in how a so-called squire acquired such advanced training when he should be five years shy of nearing the end of his squire-ship."

Peter darted a wary glance at Gar, the troublemaking knight from the evening before. Gar's dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion. "Where did you train, boy? Was it your father who taught you such skills?"

"No. My father had no hand in training me in the sword and shield. That task fell to my-" He barely cut himself off before the word 'general' tripped off his tongue. _Blast it, Pevensie, you are not the High King right now. You wouldn't be trained by your General._

"By your what?"

"By my foster father," Peter substituted more easily than he had imagined. "He was a skilled warrior and he pushed my brother and me hard up until the day circumstances forced us to part ways."

Gar snorted and then shoved him. Peter let himself fall back two steps, hoping that doing so would ease the suspicion that he was far more skilled than normal for a sixteen-year-old boy. He might get away with being a little more skilled. Gar's black look did not fade as he sneered. "And what then? Did you steal from him? Or murder him in his bed?"

Peter laughed in spite of himself. "I don't know any man who could catch him unawares and he was the one who taught me about moving stealthily, for hunting you know, so I doubt anyone could sneak up on him in his bed or get away with thievery. At least not for very long."

Gar shoved him again. "You dare mock me, boy?"

"Enough, Gar. Did you not idolize your foster father? I know I did. Until he finally became as any other man." Tamlin grasped the other knight's shoulder in a firm grip that would have looked friendly to anyone watching from a distance but Peter could see how he dug his fingers into Gar's shoulder. "The boy is yet under my protection. And squires will always be outmatched by at least one of their fellows. You should focus more on Brock's sloppy shield work if you do not want to see him flattened by a lad four years his junior."

Gar jerked out of Tamlin's grasp, a hateful gleam in his eyes. "You may have the ear of Lord Aiden but that will not last long if he learns you have deceived him, Tamlin. I know there's something wrong with these two gutter rats you picked up on the docks." He looked as though he would have said more but something made him check his words and he merely snarled a curse before storming off.

Peter looked at Tamlin. The man shook his head then laughed softly. "I should thank you, Galahad. Gar has been keeping Brock too soft. You finally showed them both what I and the other knights have been trying to persuade Gar of for over a year. Or perhaps I should thank your foster father." He studied Peter's face carefully. "Is his name well-known?"

"It is around his home but I doubt it would mean anything to you." He did not think that Oreius' reputation had yet reached the islands. Archenland, most definitely, but probably not the Lone Islands yet. Although if the Duke of Galma had informed the Lone Islands and others of their anti-slavery laws, it was possible the man who had been so impressed by Oreius and the tales shared of Beruna could have spoken of Narnia's General. Peter didn't dare take the risk. He fervently prayed that Tamlin would not press him for a name. He would never be able to remember a false name for Oreius, much less think up a good one. Such sneakiness was Edmund's forte, not his.

"A pity." Tamlin clapped him on the shoulder then gave him a little push toward the nearest water trough. "Clean yourself up, Galahad. I have more work for you until Lord Aiden releases your brother from his interview."

OOOOOOO

_"__I also see that you are no squire, Gawain."_

Edmund looked at him cautiously. The observation was true. He was not a squire. He was a knight and king, although he hoped Lord Aiden hadn't sussed that out. He also hoped Peter wasn't making trouble because of his worry. "Sir?"

Lord Aiden did not answer; instead, he changed the subject. "What is your father's trade?"

"He was a scholar, my lord. But that was before he felt he needed to join the war effort." The picture of his dad, a man who looked a lot like Peter only older, was fuzzier than it used to be. Edmund looked around the room. He needed to control his emotions. He couldn't get upset or show his shock that his memories of his dad were already so faded. "By the time we left home, we still hadn't had any word of when he might return. I doubt we'll ever see him again."

The last he hadn't intended to say but Lord Aiden only nodded as he wrote something down. "I see. Can you read and write, boy?"

"Yes and I even know all my numbers," Edmund sniped before he could stop himself. Blast, but he did hate when grownups talked to him like he had stuffing between his ears.

Lord Aiden's thin lips twitched though he did not laugh or smile. "Good, very good. As I said, you are no squire, Gawain. However, I do believe you might be following in your father's footsteps. You seem the studious sort, observing and careful for the most part. You have the makings of a scholar. Leave the work of a squire to your brother."

Before Edmund could decide just how he felt about the unexpected turn in the conversation, the lord rose. "It is decided then. Follow me."

He was tempted to order the man to stop and explain to him just what was going on but reminded himself that Lord Aiden expected obedience. And he would obey . . . at least until he saw what Aiden had in mind. Anything less than aboveboard and he would find an excuse to leave and get to Peter. There were enough noble houses in Narrowhaven that they could find a different place to investigate.

They walked down a short hall and then went up two flights of stairs. Edmund noticed that the paintings and tapestries adorning the walls had become more personal. The lord's family wing?

"Aiden?"

The man stopped and then reached out both hands to accept the ones proffered by the elegant lady who had swept out of one of the rooms. The woman was not as tall as Lord Aiden, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder, but she was slender and jewels decorated her carefully coifed chestnut hair. Her eyes were a pale green and perhaps would have sparkled with light had she smiled but she looked worn and pale. Dark shadows marred the skin beneath her eyes and her slender hands trembled as she whispered, "Oh Aiden, I have no good news for you."

The lord bowed his head then kissed her hands. "Do not fret. I may have another solution. In young Gawain here."

Only then did the lady seem aware of him. Her eyes widening slightly as one frail hand clasped her throat. "What do you mean?"

"You will see." Lord Aiden looked at him and the almost tender look in his eyes disappeared as he scowled in disapproval. Edmund finally remembered what he should have done as soon as the lady's attention was directed toward him and hurried to bow lower than he usually would have as suited a squire. "Gawain, this is my wife, the Lady Eirlyss."

"I am honored to be in your presence, my lady," Edmund intoned.

She offered a faint smile then squeezed her husband's hands, hope bringing a hint of light back into her eyes. "I pray you are correct, my lord. For all our sakes."

Edmund noticed a maid approached the lady as soon as Lord Aiden led him past here. He wondered if she was ill. Then his attention returned to the lord as the man stopped in front of a pair of large wooden doors. He opened them to reveal a spacious apartment filled with books and papers scattered across two desks and a wooden sword and shield tucked away in one corner, partially concealed by an afghan. On the opposite side of the apartment was a relatively large four-poster bed. A frazzled-looking man with his grey hair standing up in random clumps as though he had been pulling at it stood beside the bed, a large book in his hands. His droning recitation of names stopped as he swung around to see them enter. "My Lord Aiden, you did not warn me that you were coming today. I fear the young sir is not up to reciting his facts today. Or the arithmetic. Perhaps geography?"

Edmund ignored Lord Aiden as the man waved off the tutor's excuses. His attention was on the bed, or rather its scowling occupant. Propped with pillows that were thrice as wide as he was, lay a boy. His messy brown hair stuck up at weird angles and he was frightfully thin, almost to the point of being skeletal. His breathing had the rasp of sickness and his skin was sallow-looking. The only true sign of life was the intelligence snapping in his green eyes.

"Fechin, this is Gawain." Lord Aiden clapped a hand on Edmund's shoulder. "He is a young scholar meant to be your companion so you will no longer have to study alone."

_What?_

Edmund stared at Fechin as Lord Aiden bid farewell and then left. The tutor was blabbering about something to do with not being paid to teach two buffoons. Fechin's eyes snapped with green flames at the muttered comment but his snotty retort was aimed at Edmund alone. "You're not a scholar. You're barely older than I am." His lip curled into a sneer. "Gutter rats aren't scholars. Bernard, make him leave."

_Great, this is going to be so much fun._ Edmund eyed the sickly boy skeptically. Why did he get stuck with the brat? And what put the idea into Lord Aiden's head that being schoolmates would accepted amicably, much less joyfully, without so much as a by your leave?

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! Hehehe, I think Fechin is going to make Edmund's life interesting, don't you? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter Six

"Lucy, be careful!"

The younger of the queens showed no fear as she peered down from the tree, smiling widely. "I am, Susan. I just need to help Tiffany get down." Then she disappeared from sight.

He watched as the Gentle paced beneath the tree until her sister swung down and dropped with a giggle. She turned to reveal a fluffy kitten cradled in the crook of one arm. The Queens cooed over the little beast and then sent her off.

The sisters looked around but they did not see him hidden in the shadows. Then the fair-haired child tugged on her sister's silk sleeve. "Susan, did we get a message yet?"

"Not yet. But hopefully we will hear something by . . . we will hear something soon." The elder Queen rested a slender hand on Queen Lucy's shoulder. "Come on, we still have our history lesson to attend before luncheon and then we must hold court until teatime."

"Oh! I almost forgot. I should invite Mr. Tumnus. Oh and Mr. and Mrs. Snickett just came back from their honeymoon and they're the sweetest Otters I know other than Gertrude. We can invite her too and . . ."

The bright chatter faded as the Queens vanished down the path leading toward the palace. Perhaps he should catch up to them, make his presence known. It was possible that if he did, the Queen Lucy would invite him to tea and then he might find a way to get closer to the Queens. Queen Susan was looking remarkably-

"Why have you been spying on the Queens?"

He turned to see the General glaring at him. Lord Armin bowed slightly. "I was not spying. I thought Queen Lucy might be in distress based on the Gentle's calls but when it was clear neither lady was in distress, I merely thought to seize the opportunity to observe them."

The sound of running steps reached his ears and he looked around to the Gentle racing back into the garden, her long black hair flaring behind her. She went to the little stone bench where she had been sitting before her sister vanished up a tree in search of the kitten. Armin watched as she walked around the bench then crouched, her lilac purple skirts spreading in a circle as she searched under some rose bushes.

"Why?"

He did not look away from the Gentle as he answered in a low voice, "I was admiring the elder queen. She is very beautiful."

Queen Susan rose with a book and a pair of slippers in hand but that was all he saw before he was slammed against the garden wall. The General had his tunic in his fists and raised him with hardly any effort so they were face to face and Armin's boots dangled in the air. Dark eyes flashed and an expression of pure fury appeared as the Centaur growled, "The Queens accept no suitors. The Gentle is not of age. You will not pursue her. If you cause her unease, I will do no less than the Kings would and escort you from Cair Paravel at the point of my sword. If you attempt to force your attentions on her, I will break your neck."

The Centaur abruptly stepped back, allowing Armin to drop. The fury was masked by an impassive expression but his voice was cold as he added, "You will remember, Sir, that the Gentle is not of age."

Armin straightened his tunic then shrugged. "Perhaps that would deter suitors of commoners but royals are betrothed early, some even in their cradles, and my understanding is that though the Gentle is fifteen, she will be of age in less than a year's time." He brushed at his sleeve as he added, "And the Queen Susan looks of age. Her looks will matter to many of her hopeful suitors far more than the technicality of age, especially since she is of childbearing age already."

He bowed his head once to the General, ignoring the black look he received, and then he strolled away.

OOOOOOO

The audacity of that Archenlandish lord galled Oreius. He glared out across the sea, recalling again the words the man had tossed about so carelessly about the Queen Susan. Two fillies, still foals like their brothers, who had neither sire nor dam to protect them from the unscrupulous lords who sought child brides and thought to use them for their own ends. And at the moment, the fillies did not even have their brothers to look after them. But they had him.

Oreius stamped a hoof. He would no more leave his fillies unprotected than he would his colts. He looked at the Cair, gleaming beneath the moonlight. He would need to put another safeguard in place. Someone who could watch over the Queens when he could not, someone who would not hesitate to send for aid while also defending the fillies and who would keep him fully informed.

He knew just the mare. Oreius galloped back to the Cair, slowing his pace to a more measured walk as he entered the gates then made his way to the archery field. There were several Centauresses gathered in a knot watching as one of their number practiced. The archers' attention immediately turned to him but he passed them, ignoring their giggles and several hopeful looks they cast toward him. He was not here for pleasure or to seek a filly out to court.

He flicked his tail in mild agitation at the unprofessional behavior his archers displayed but he put it from his mind when he saw her at the far end of the archery range. The nearest torches had been doused as the Centauress raised her bow then loosed the arrow. It hit the center of the target.

"Lady Nephele."

She startled, emerald eyes wide and questioning as she looked around at him, and then she approached him cautiously. "General Oreius? Is something wrong, Sir? With the transcription for this morn's meeting I provided? If there is, I have another copy I can give you."

Oreius raised a hand. "No. Your scribe's work is as exemplary as ever. However, there is a favor I would ask of you, Lady."

Wariness entered the mare's gaze and she shifted on her hooves uncertainly. "A favor, General?"

He nodded then glanced at where the other archers were gossiping and lowered his voice. "You were at the meeting with Lord Armin. I need you to stay close to the Queens, be with them when and where I cannot. Do not let Lord Armin be alone with them, especially the Gentle."

Protective rage replaced wariness as she looked up sharply at him, her pale hair looking like a white fall of snow beneath the moonlight. "He threatened her?"

"He has expressed an interest in her. I fear he might attempt to press a suit upon her given the opportunity."

Nephele wrinkled her nose. "He shan't have one then." She gave him a curious look. "General Oreius, may I ask why me? I am more scribe than archer now. Perhaps Artemis or Merrywithers would be better choices. They are among the most skilled archers in the army."

"They are but I need you because of the second task. I want you to make a record of everything Lord Armin says and does in the presence of the Queens and anywhere else you might observe him. I want a nightly report. And a scribe constantly with the Queens will rouse less belligerence in the man."

The filly laughed softly. "I see. But, Lord Armin has made it plain that he does not trust scribes and he certainly does not approve me." She looked down as she added in a whisper, "I fear he will be guarded around me and I will not be able to help the Queens after all."

Oreius gently rested a hand on her shoulder. "Nephele, I trust you and our Queens are very fond of you. I do not wish to alarm them unnecessarily, which is another reason your presence will be of great help. Do what you can. If Lord Armin guards his words and actions when you are there, then you still protect the Queens by keeping him from being over-bold."

She raised her head, a question in her emerald eyes but she did not ask it. Instead, she nodded. "I will do it. All of it, Sir. You will have your first report tomorrow night." Nephele glanced beyond him and grimaced a little. "Though I fear I have exposed you to more gossip than usual, General."

"It is of no matter. I thank you for your help, Lady Nephele." Oreius bowed slightly then left the archery range, ignoring the way the Centauresses at the other end (whose numbers seemed to have grown) watched him as their flurry of whispers fell silent before reviving as soon as they trusted he was out of hearing. Nephele would not fail him. He knew she loved the Four as much as he did.

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! I hope y'all enjoy this bonus chapter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all think of this one. **


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter 7

What had he gotten himself into? Edmund fought back the urge to glare at either the boy or the tutor's dry and dull recitation of the heroes of the Lone Islands. He had had the same lesson not even a fortnight before he and Peter had come here. He had to say that between Oreius and old Glimwing, the huge Eagle-owl who was the main history tutor, the lesson had been vastly more interesting. Glimwing was very good at describing things with vivid, if occasionally hard-to-understand, words and Oreius had commandeered their lunch tray (or what had remained of it) to show them just how the battles were won. And then he had consequently made him and Peter try to win the battles using different tactics. Oreius always won when he played, err, controlled the movement of enemy troops just like he always won when one of them controlled the enemy.

Edmund smirked a little. Losing was not in the good General's vocabulary and he had once flustered Glimwing terribly by not allowing a historic loss to occur because it would not have happened if the king and general at the time had used proper strategy. The Eagle-owl did not appreciate his logic or the idea that the kings would learn better if they saw the correct way the battle should have played out. That had been a memorable lesson. Of course, then his brilliant brother had gotten them both in trouble by being caught grinning. They had had to visit the points of the compass and then do their _extra_ homework on the reasons the Narnians lost the battle as well as a companion paper on why the Narnians should not have lost the battle (two copies each, one for their military history instructor (Oreius) and one for their history tutor). Then there was another visit to the points of the compass.

"Master Bernard, the lackwit is daydreaming again."

Edmund's smirk vanished as he raised his head to meet the malicious glee in Fechin's gaze as the younger boy sneered at him. The tutor was also frowning at him. "I say, Master Gawain, you do have a small attention span, don't you?" The man scowled and muttered half under his breath, "And I thought the young master was as dull-witted as any pupil I could receive."

The malicious gleam vanished from the boy's eyes as he stared at the tutor's back. But before Edmund could determine what emotion the caustic remark had evoked, pure hate appeared in the other boy's eyes. He grabbed the goblet of water that Edmund had been required to fill every time Fechin took a drink and hurled it at the tutor. Or, rather, he attempted to throw it. His weak lob only resulted in the goblet barely making it to his feet before it landed on the coverlet, soaking it with water.

Looking at his pinched, pale features and the way he gasped for breath, Edmund could not help but pity the boy. His rage was restrained by his limitations and not his own self-control. And to make matters worse, Bernard had not even looked up from his droning recitation to notice the attempted braining.

Fechin glared at him and gasped, "Bernard, the gutter rat is a clumsy oaf. Look what he did. Make him clean it up."

The tutor's bushy grey eyebrows had climbed up his slopping forehead like caterpillars as he surveyed the mess. "Well, boy? Clean it up and move the young sir to your chair-"

"I won't sit in the same chair a gutter rat's been using. What if he has diseases?"

"Then at least you'd have an excuse for being such a brat," Edmund hissed under his breath as he yanked the covers down. The younger boy's eyes widened. Surprised perhaps that Edmund had finally broken his careful silence. Edmund couldn't care less. He picked up the boy. Though the lad was nine years of age, he was skeletal that he hardly weighed as much as the little Willow sapling Edmund had been obliged to carry a few months ago (Peter being preoccupied with carrying the larger Bear cub). He deposited Fechin on the second, larger, and fluffier chair, which promptly served to make the boy look even smaller and paler than his long nightshirt.

Edmund looked at the tutor. "Do you think you can at least muster the strength to summon a maid with fresh linens? Or does holding that old book weigh you down?"

Bernard turned a satisfying shade of puce, his caterpillar eyebrows wriggling as his mouth opened then closed, the words struggling to form. Edmund sniffed, strode to the bed, set the empty goblet back on the little table, and then stripped the coverlet and sheets from the bed. He did not attempt to be calm or gentle in his manner. He was quite fed up, thank you very much. Bratty little boys and snide tutors. By the Lion, he had had more than enough of that in that awful place before he had learned to be just as snotty and mean back in order to defend himself, driving off the bullies who looked at him as the weak version of his brother by joining them in their own game. He had been good at it too. Edmund shuddered suddenly. Almost too good.

Lion's Mane, he missed running those errands for Tamlin. He could have withstood being a messenger boy and scrubbing the floors of the barracks. He would have had Peter by his side and sparred with him, instead of growing soft because he still hadn't found a way to practice without drawing unwanted attention. And he would have been able to keep his ear to the ground, sussing out how well the seeds of rebellion had been planted in the hearts of the Lone Islanders.

"Mind what you're doing, gutter rat!"

Edmund scowled at the brat, trying hard to keep his temper under control, as he tucked the fresh sheets into place. Then, striding over to the chair, he looked down on the younger boy. "Don't see how bawling and throwing things is going to gain you respect. Unless, of course, your plan is to have only babies respect you. Learn my name if you can, Fechin."

The boy's features pinched with rage again but he could do nothing as Edmund picked him up and carried him over to the bed with far more gentleness than he bloody well deserved. Peter would be disappointed if he stormed out. Oreius would be disappointed if he lost his temper when it was not beneficial. Aslan would be disappointed if he acted like the same little beast he had been before meeting Him. And so, Edmund bit his tongue, holding back the angry words that would upbraid the brat and demand his respect. Respect earned was far better than respect stolen or forced out of fear. Oreius was fond of telling his kings that and Edmund could remember Dad saying something similar.

Resuming his seat, Edmund distracted himself from the dull lesson by assessing the various ways of leaving the room, of winning (or losing) the Battle of Beruna, and of making Bernard faint or at the very least stop talking. He wouldn't tell Peter about that last part.

OOOOOOO

Lord Armin strolled along the beach, hands clasped behind his back, smiling to himself slightly. Things were coming together nicely if a bit slower than he had originally hoped. He had growing suspicions regarding the Narnian kings' 'hunt' but he was also certain he would unravel that truth soon enough. For now though . . . His eyes lifted and he smiled a little wider as she came into view, her long black hair blowing in the breeze and her delicate pink velvet dress added to the fetching picture. She turned to face him and he bowed low. "Queen Susan."

The girl looked slightly startled and he immediately relaxed his stance, attempting to put her at ease. "Forgive me for interrupting you. I did not think anyone else would be out here this morning." He paused, looking around the beach then turning to her once more. "Forgive me but you are not alone, are you? Your guards?"

"Are not very far." But her voice hitched slightly and there was just a hint of nervousness in her blue eyes.

Lord Armin took a step back, not wanting her to put her guard up against him. "I am pleased to hear it, Your Majesty. Perhaps I might escort you back to the Cair?"

"Thank you, but I have not yet finished with my walk." Her smile was gracious as ever but still she did not seem fully relaxed. He would need a different tactic.

"It is a lovely stretch of beach. I'm told the Mermaids frequent your shores."

She nodded, her gentle gaze wandering over the silver sea. "They do. I am certain if I do not have the time to do so, my sister will be delighted to introduce you to some of the Merfolk who come up to the lower pavilions."

"Your land is most fair, Gentle Queen." Lord Armin walked alongside her, maintaining a polite distance, as she resumed her trek down the beach. "The only thing I regret is that I have had so little time to spend in the company of her kings. I have heard many rumors about the Four and wished very much to see the truth of the matter for myself. King Lune was gracious enough to grant me this opportunity just before he learned of the troubles."

Queen Susan looked at him cautiously but she said nothing, biting her bottom lip instead. Then her gaze shifted beyond him and she finally relaxed. Lord Armin turned to see the scribe, the unorganized one who was so often in the queens' company, approaching. The Centauress bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, Lord Armin." Then she held out a sealed note. "A message from your sister, My Queen."

Lord Armin hid a frown as the Gentle once again turned a gracious smile on him. "I thank you for your concern, Lord Armin, and for being so gracious in understanding my brothers' absence. I do hope they will return soon."

He glanced again at the scribe then offered a polite bow. "I pray it will be so, fair lady." He smiled at the Gentle who blushed. "But I fear I should leave you to your walk. Perhaps I shall have the favor of your company again later this day."

He turned almost too swiftly and walked with forced casualness back toward Cair Paravel. However, he had not gotten far before he heard a soft voice call to him. But it was not the voice he would have preferred. Nevertheless, he stopped. He had heard the reports and also seen what happened when guests at the Cair were anything less than politeness itself to the native Narnians. He wanted to be admitted into the queens' graces and their confidences. That would never happen if he did not pretend at making the effort to be courteous even to the scribe.

The Centauress' emerald gaze was piercing and she immediately extended a gilt-edged cream invitation. "From the Valiant, Lord Armin."

He read it. An invitation to a private supper that very evening. Only the queens and select courtiers would be in attendance. The perfect chance to make his request of the Gentle. However . . . Armin looked up to find the scribe still watching him. He bowed his head. "I thank you for taking the trouble to deliver this, lady. Perhaps you will also be in attendance at tonight's supper?"

She did not so much as blink as she replied simply, "I did not receive an invitation."

"Ah." Good. Armin took care not to show his pleasure at the scribe's absence and bowed his head again. "I offer my thanks once more for your courtesy in delivering the invitation, lady. Pray excuse me."

OOOOOOO

Oreius checked the figures for the soldiers out of the Cair on patrol and then compared them to the number still stationed within Cair Paravel or in close proximity. A soft knock pulled his attention away from calculating how many soldiers he could assign to patrolling the gardens and beach whenever the Four went there. Looking up, he said, "Enter."

He raised an eyebrow as the door opened to reveal Nephele. The little Centauress was not due to deliver a report for another eight hours. "Lady Nephele, what brings you here?"

Her pale cheeks suffused with color and she cast a wary glance over her shoulder at the hall before she shut the door. "Forgive me, General. I would not have intruded but I did not feel this could wait."

Oreius laid his quill down. "What is it? What has happened?"

"It is not what has happened, General, as much as it is what I fear will happen. Lord Armin was invited to partake in the private supper with the Queens and some of their courtiers this eve. He seemed to be making the Gentle uncomfortable after he followed her onto the beach. I do not think he realized she was without a personal guard, though. And he also left almost as soon as I arrived."

"Lady Nephele-"

She continued as though unaware he had even tried to speak, her eyes wide and filled with worry. "He did not say anything precisely that seemed suspicious but, from what I have observed of him for the past sennight, I cannot help feeling that he will find a way to use this banquet to his advantage. And I cannot find a way to watch over the Queens because I was not invited and when I checked the duty roster, the guards were already assigned. I could not think of a way to trade duties with one of the guards without rousing suspicion, which you asked me not to do, nor could I simply request an invitation for myself. Though I am certain the Queen Lucy would be more than delighted to give me one if I had asked, I am certain it would have disrupted carefully laid plans for the banquet arrangements and that would certainly draw attention among even more people than simply trying to trade guard duty."

Oreius raised his hand. "Calm yourself, Lady." He reached into his desk and then pulled out a note. "_I_ have been invited to join our queens at tonight's banquet as well."

The filly blushed, her emerald green eyes widening, before she ducked her head. Her white-blonde hair fell forward like a curtain to hide her features. "Oh. Pray forgive me, General. I should not have- That is I should have known or guessed- I should not have presumed that you were unprepared for this development, sir. Forgive me."

She started backing toward the door. "A moment, Lady, if you please," Oreius stated as he came around his large desk, invitation still in hand. The mare stopped but she did not look at him. He kept his tone gentle as he continued, "I have taken no offense, Lady Nephele. I know you speak only out of concern for our queens' safety." He paused, considering, and then asked softly, "Were you the scribe who took down the invitations?"

"No, General. That was Cherrybell. I only delivered the invitation to Lord Armin because the Valiant asked it of me after I finished supervising her calligraphy lesson."

Oreius nodded then held out the invitation to her, waiting until she had taken it. He noticed her fingers were ink-stained and they trembled slightly as she accepted the note. "As you can see, I am also permitted to bring a guest. I thought-"

She gasped, looking up at him with a relieved smile. "Of course! Artemis is an excellent choice, sir. I had wondered why one of the best archers was not listed among tonight's guards and now it makes perfect sense." She laid one slender hand on his forearm, still smiling. "I confess the news allows me to rest easy. Surely, the Archenlandish lord will not attempt any mischief when he is under your gaze as well as that of Artemis."

He stared at her in silence and then cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Artemis requested leave from duty and it was granted yesterday evening. I believe she travelled home today."

Nephele froze, her gaze questioning and bewildered and her hand still on his arm. "Oh."

Oreius cleared his throat again then flicked his tail. "What I intended was to ask if _you_ would be gracious enough to accompany me to-"

"No!" The filly pulled her hand away as though she had been burned, wariness filling her emerald green eyes. "I mean, that is, I don't accompany anyone." She backed away, looking so skittish that he was surprised she had not wrenched the door open and bolted from the room yet. "Oh I cannot, sir. Pray do not ask such a thing of me. I do not wish to offend but I do not accompany anyone to anything, General."

He backed up, raising his hands in an attempt to put her at ease, as he tried to reassure her. "I fear you have mistaken my meaning, Nephele." She flinched a little and his concern grew at the odd reaction. He backed up even further, putting the desk between them and still keep his hands where she could see them. "Please, Lady Nephele, do not fear. I meant nothing by my suggestion. I thought only to give you the opportunity to watch over our queens this eve. And I thought you might have more insights into Lord Armin's behavior tonight if you witnessed it for yourself."

The mare had reddened again and she no longer met his gaze. She looked down at the invitation and startled as though she had forgotten accepting it. He could see she was trembling when she approached his desk long enough to place the invitation on it. She still did not look him in the eyes as she murmured, "I will be ready to join you this eve, General."

What could possibly have caused such a reaction? He did not know and he did not like that at all. Oreius kept his voice gentle as he asked after the most obvious reason, "Lady, if you are concerned that the gossip among army will reach the ears of a suitor in your herd, I-"

She blushed almost as furiously as she shook her head. "No. No, I am not being courted by anyone. I don't accept courtship offers. Or any offer or favor that might lead to courtship. I do not know what I was thinking. Forgive me, General, I was extremely foolish for a moment to think that you would intend anything other than the continuation of my current assignment." Nephele looked up at him almost anxiously as she backed toward the door again. "Am I dismissed, sir?"

"Yes."

The answer came by rote. Oreius frowned as he followed her to the door and then stood there as she hurried down the hall. What or who had made Nephele so wary? And of her own kind? He closed the door and then shook his head. If it did not interfere with Nephele's performance of her duties then he had no cause to meddle in her personal affairs, especially if they were not related to the army. He picked up his quill once again and resumed his work. His thoughts strayed to the little mare's odd behavior a few times before he settled on the far more pressing task of fulfilling his promise to send the Sea Birds to the Lone Islands. His colts had been silent for almost too long now.

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! **


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: The Four have fought for almost three years to remove the scars Jadis left on Narnia. Now the time has come for Narnia to look beyond her own borders. An Archenlandish lord brings warning of rebellion. But who among men can be trusted?

Chapter 8

Peter paced in the courtyard, watching the shadows inch closer as the sun began to set. Four days without so much as a word from his brother or about him. He hadn't seen Edmund on any of the transport wagons, though. And Edmund would have found a way to sneak back and find him so they could move on to the next house. His little brother prized his skill at being sneaky.

It would be five days come tomorrow. Oreius would be sending the Sea Birds soon, if he hadn't already. He needed to find his brother. Peter had heard some of the squires joshing each other about their likelihood of ending up in the lord's dungeon. He ran both hands through his hair, tousling it as he planned and paced. Dungeon or the lord's study? Dungeon or the lord's study?

Peter frowned up at the manor. He didn't know where the dungeons were and, presumed squire or not, he couldn't just demand to be taken to see a prisoner. He didn't even know if Edmund was prisoner.

It would have to be the study.

"Galahad."

Peter continued looking up at the lord's manor, retracing the path to Lord Aiden's study in his head.

"Galahad."

He wished that bloke would go see what was wanted. Then he'd be able to plan in peace. Sunset would be too early. The hours kept by the Lone Islanders didn't quite last as long as the Narnians (especially when one took into account all the nocturnal creatures who called Cair Paravel home) but they still lasted long past sunset.

A hand clamped on his shoulder, spinning him about to face Tamlin. "Galahad," the knight repeated with a touch of pique in his voice now. "Pull your head from the clouds, boy. Take my swords to the smithy and have them sharpened."

Peter barely bit back a hot retort in time and he bowed his head, hoping the man hadn't noticed his temper. "Yes, Sir Tamlin. Sorry, sir. I was just thinking about-"

"A girl, I know." The knight grinned, all hint of irritation gone. "Just be careful you don't cast your eye too high. It's a long fall for a squire."

Bowing his head again, Peter cleared his throat. "Yes, Sir Tamlin." He was only sixteen and was far too busy with kingdom matters to even think about girls, much less have infatuations. He hastily took the two short swords from the knight and started to turn then remembered to offer a slight bow and wait for dismissal.

When the house was asleep, in the late watches. That was when he would free his brother. Confident now in his plan, Peter strode to the smithy.

OOOOOOO

It took far longer than he had originally thought. But, after avoiding Tamlin as the knight headed into the city, wrapped in a feature-obscuring cloak, Peter was finally where he could sneak into the manor. He scanned the area as thoroughly as Oreius had taught him then he found the rose-covered lattice that would allow him to climb up to the second floor balcony unseen. Peter checked the area again and then took the risk of scaling the makeshift ladder. Thorns dug into his hands then tore at his clothes but Peter ignored it all. He had to make sure his baby brother was all right. He had promised Mum.

Peter kept low once he climbed over the balcony railing. He crept over to the doors and carefully tested the handle. Praise Aslan, it was unlocked and well oiled, easing open with nary a creak. Peter made it into the corridor without any trouble but he still kept his eyes open for any sign of a house guard and anything familiar from his last trip.

Fortunately, it seemed that Lord Aiden was rather slack in security measures compared to Oreius. Peter paused at a crossroads. He didn't remember it. He started down the right-hand corridor and then dashed to hide behind a large column bracketing an archway as two shadows appeared in the faint moonlight.

"He is growing weaker."

A soft sob filled the air on the heels of those gruff words. Then a woman's teary voice answered, "I know, my lord. We must keep trying for another son, another heir."

"I could make arrangements for you and the-"

"But the governor will not honor it. We have . . . we have seen what happened to the other families who attempted to change the inheritance. Aiden, I could not bear it." The woman wept softly and Peter watched as the larger of the two shadows, Lord Aiden no doubt, took the other into his arms.

"You should not have to bear any weight on your shoulders, my lady. Pray forgive me for finding no cure to help our boy."

"Forgive me for bearing you only daughters and a sickly heir."

"Eirlyss . . ."

"Please, Aiden, say you forgive me for failing you in this precious matter."

There was silence for a long moment as the shadows stood so close they almost looked to be one. But then Lord Aiden moved back from his wife and began turning toward the archway. Peter froze, not daring to move and hardly daring to breathe. He couldn't move around the column or his shadow would betray him. _Aslan, please!_

Then the shadows drew closer. Aiden murmured, "Come, my lady, let us walk around your lily pond. There is no full moon but there is yet enough moonlight that it should prove almost as pretty a picture as you."

They walked through the archway, Lord Aiden's head bent toward his wife, and neither looked left or right. Peter didn't let out the breath he'd been holding until the couple passed out of sight. He closed his eyes for a moment. _Thank you, Aslan._

Hurrying down the corridor, he gave a silent cheer when he recognized his surroundings. Now to find the study and then Edmund.

OOOOOOO

Lord Aiden kept a tidy study, which made it a challenge to look through papers without leaving behind any signs that someone had been snooping. He also wasn't sure how long he had before his presence was missed. The slight, dark-haired boy looked up from the desk, listening intently, but this part of the manor remained silent save for the sound of his own breathing.

Edmund tested the large center drawer. Locked. He pulled out the lock picks he'd hastily stashed up his sleeve and then went to work. He heard the snick of the lock and then pulled on the drawer again, this time it slipped open with ease. Letters and two stacks of parchment. Edmund pulled the drawer further out, trying to make out the writing on the topmost parchment.

_Lords of the Islands call a council to address_

A muffled scream made him jump back. Edmund slid the drawer close and then hurried to the study door. Another muffled scream. This time he was certain it came from the family quarters. But he didn't hear any guards.

Edmund yanked the door open and then sprinted down the hall on silent feet. He paused at the sight of two men, masked and hooded, jogging toward him. Each of them was carrying a struggling girl over their shoulders. They were so preoccupied with trying to keep the girls' flailing under control that they still hadn't noticed his presence.

Gritting his jaw, Edmund ran forward. He drove his shoulder into the closest man's gut and then stomped on his insole, making the man curse as he nearly lost his grip on the girl. Edmund ducked under the man's wild swing. Then the second man staggered back into his companion, one meaty hand clamped over his face. Peter stood there, fists clenched and breathing hard, as he ordered in a low voice, "Put the girls down."

Edmund jumped with both feet on the first man's foot and slammed a fist into his gut. "Let her go."

The man swore and dropped the girl almost in Edmund's lap. He steadied her then grabbed her hand, dragging her back toward the study, her sobbing sister trailing them. He let go and then gave both girls a little push. "Go on! Run! Get your father!"

The girls darted frightened looks at him and then at where Peter was still fighting with their would-be abductors. Then the younger of the girls screamed. The girls turned and fled, looking like ghosts with their white nightgowns flaring behind them, still screaming. Edmund could hear shouts from further away. It seemed the manor's guard had finally woken up.

He spun on his heel just in time to see Peter knock the smaller of the two men down. The man groaned once and then went completely limp. Edmund ran into the fray and jumped on the larger brute's back. "Hit him!"

"I'm trying," Peter huffed then he dropped to the floor to avoid a swing.

Edmund grunted as the man slammed back into the wall. He wrapped his arms around the brute's neck, squeezing tighter. Oreius claimed that if he held on long enough, his opponent would collapse from lack of air. Of course, it would help if this bloke had a proper neck instead of a stump. He finally let go and dropped to the floor. He met Peter's gaze and nodded.

Peter gave a curt nod and then locked his hands together to form a large fist. He slammed his foot into the brute's knee, making him stumble back. Edmund braced himself on his hands and knees, smirking as the brute tripped over him and crashed to the floor. He rolled to his feet and then kicked the man in the head. Peter followed through by punching him. Edmund winced a little at the sound of the brute's nose breaking.

Peter straightened and looked around then grinned. "Well, that was easy."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Why do you keep leaving me the big ones?"

"What? I took the big one. I left you the short, skinny one."

Edmund opened his mouth to retort but then shouts filled the air and the hall filled with the blaze of torches and lanterns as guards swarmed on their position. Edmund stepped forward, hoping to keep Peter from being locked up. "You need-"

"Silence!" Two men jumped on him, forcing him to kneel and yanking his arms behind his back. Another man lowered his sword to his throat.

A glance to the right proved Peter was in the same predicament. And if he knew the magnificent blockhead at all, he'd probably surrendered without a fight as soon as he saw Edmund in custody. Edmund sighed. So much for an unnoticed investigation of Lord Aiden's study.

"What have you done?" Lord Aiden was suddenly there, glaring at them all, his keen gaze taking in the two unconscious men and then sharpening as it landed on Peter. He turned back to Edmund. "Is this how you repay my trust, Gawain?"

The lord didn't even wait for a reply before he gestured sharply. "Throw these four in the dungeon. Now!"

OOOOOOO

**A/N: Please Read and Review! Dun dun dun! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


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